The Roadside Stand and Other Futures
Dear Reader,
Before I jump in to today’s essay I wanted to make some exciting announcements about classes I am teaching and places I will be this year.
First up : This Sunday is the first of three weeks of my class The Tapestry and The Web : Journaling as a Contemplative Practice
This class is named after the Joanne Kyger book of the same name. We will be learning about her work, poetry, and published journals as well as my own scores and studies of journaling as a way to generate new writing material, quiet the mind, and process the living world.
This August I am honored to be a resident at Atland in Western Mass, one of my favorite places in the world run by two of my favorite people. I will be teaching a new class called Scores of the Invisible that is both dance and writing (no experience in either required) on August 23 and 24. Think gay summer camp with a drag show and new friends and creek dips and togetherness. I couldn’t be more excited.
And last but not least - on May 24 and 25 I am teaching my Quilt in a Weekend class IN PERSON with the Green Door Folk School in Traverse City, MI just up the road from where I live. All materials are provided, no prior sewing skills required. Best yet, you leave with a quilt! Springtime in Northern Michigan is really special and we will jump in the lake.
So much! So grateful! Teaching is an integral part of my creative practice and the idea of connecting with some of you in person or online in the classroom space feels so meaningful.
I am sitting next to Roman, my youngest adult friend and grad school son. When I did the math and realized by body could have technically given birth to him I saw my age in a new way. Twenty two years of birthing abilities yet none to be seen.
Birthing has been on my mind lately. My own body’s lingering ability to reproduce, my own desires around children, my own visions of what family can look like changing rapidly as I approach 37, a geriatric pregnancy amongst us.
I am also thinking about the birthing of new work, of my book, of new love. The roadside stand project is coming into clearer view and I still don’t know what it is but Lexie at Pahl’s gave me a quote for the shed and the other important gears are turning.
A list from yesterday :
Who are my collaborators?
How do I collaborate across modalities?
Do I host a monthly salon at my house?
First Sunday of every month : Dinner at the house on the hill next to the meadow?
How does my roadside stand idea fit into all of this?
Does a small press fit into my practice and how?
Does the small press integrate with the roadside stand?
Is the word book or pages in the name of the roadside stand?
Does it have a physical newsletter component?
Is there a seasonal analog class that wants to be born?
Is PROMPTS still a project that wants to be born?
What other projects want to come through with the quilt show?
Is the quilt zine a zine or a self published book?
Does the zine have a fold out poster that goes inside of it?
Can the copy shop make that?
How is my work of service to my road?
How is my work of service to the peninsula?
How is my work of service to possibility and expansion?
Everything just feels like questions right now. No answers, just asking questions. Other futures shimmer in my dreams and in my waking life, and I also pay close attention to the dreariness in front of me.
Yesterday at school I had the privilege of being in class with E. Tracy Grinnell, poet and founding editor of Litmus Press. I find that witnessing other people teach is a lesson in teaching in itself. A durational eight hour experience with film, music, poetry, writing, and reading.
The prompts we worked with generated so much material, whole essays and prose sections of future books. I continue to wade through the edits of The Practice of Attention (Sounds True, Jan 2026), a muscle of writing I haven’t used since 2020. It reminds me of why I stopped choreographing and dedicated myself to the medium of improvisation as a study and performance mechanism. I have always been one for direct and bird’s eye view feedback, but line by line I struggle to make sense of someone else’s gaze on my work.
My heart is full dear reader. The world under this new government shape may not surprise me but some days it does scare me. I feel the fear alongside beloveds as we continue to mobilize in the ways we know how.
You may feel a strong pivot, the winds of change passing through while Venus runs a wild retrograde upon us. I remember how to use the self timer on my phone, I remember how to use track changes in Microsoft Word, I remember how to cultivate new skills and material.
There is so much to lose and yet nothing that slips through the cracks was ours to begin with. Holding a loose grip I let myself trust fall into companionship, collaboration, and communion with the unknown.
May your day be sweet dear reader, amidst the cruelty and confusion. May it be sweet.
Things of Note :
A way to take a small but profound action today : Demand the Immediate Release of Palestinian Student Activist Mahmoud Khalil from DHS detention
My dear friend Liz Migliorelli of Sister Spinster just opened up applications for the residency she hosts in Maine. I have done a residency facilitated by Liz before and it was a transformational experience.
The amazing Holly Whitaker, friend, confidant, and treasured peer wrote a profoundly inspiring newsletter about her use of cannabis. Recovery is such a layered and twisting journey and I was lucky to be both an early reader and a listening ear as she crafted one of the best pieces of writing I have ever read!
CLASSIFIEDS : Witching Hour is a writing community for people in recovery. No writing experience is required — just a pen, paper, and an open heart. Bold, playful table linens that encourage a sense of play. Create tablescapes that are uniquely yours. Don’t underestimate the power of a pretty napkin. 👋 Independent print publication Cycles Journal 🌗📖 is seeking heart-centered healers, practitioners, & facilitators to be listed in our Resource Directory~
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"There is so much to lose and yet nothing that slips through the cracks was ours to begin with." That hit so hard today. Going through things and just really can't tell you how much your newsletter always means to me because of sentences like that.